


Wine and Monsters - A Collection of Stories

by the_emerald_rose



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-15 21:58:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 15,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2244783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_emerald_rose/pseuds/the_emerald_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of stories, detailing happy domestic cute things between Vincent and Lucrecia. Because they need that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wine and Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent and Lucrecia spend an afternoon discussing monsters over a glass or two of wine.

"Did youuuuu know," she slurred, booping me on the nose, "That Levrikons are a delicacy in some parts of the world?"

Honestly, I hated those things. They were good target practice, but those beaks hurt. I couldn't imagine eating the kind of stringy meat they produced, or even calling it a delicacy. But I humored her. I humored her, and the way her words ran together slightly as she took another sip of red wine. I asked, "Really? How do they make it?"

Her words were kind of lost on me. Maybe it was the alcohol, or just her own intoxicating presence. Her voice had a sort of lulling effect on me. Her eyes were trained on mine, still bright and almost sparkling as she went on and on about Levrikons. The mating habits of the birds. What they ate. How they lived in packs and viciously defended their territory. I could probably care less about the subject matter, if I honestly put my head to it.

But it didn't really matter. It was her talking about it. If it had been Gast or Hojo or any other scientist, I would have probably said, "That's nice. I'm going to go watch paint dry now. That seems more entertaining."

"Oh, Vincent," she gripped my arm, "Do you know about BANDERSNATCHES?"

"I know a few things about sna--ow." God, her fingernails are sharp. "Uhh... aren't they wolves or something?"

"Oh, they are! And they have the most fascinating pack structure..." As she continued on, I found my eyes travelling to her ears, where delicate crescent shaped earrings dangled. They bobbed with each movement of her jaw, along with the little bits of hair that had fallen loose from her bun. I couldn't help but laugh as her face contorted as she made Bandersnatchly noises. And every time she mentioned a Bandersnatch, she always said it with the same over exaggerated tone, BANDERSNATCH, emphasizing every syllable. Truthfully, I was more interested in the Bandersnatch than the Levrikon.

She laughed a bit and asked, "Were you listening, Vincent?"

I replied, "Bandersnatches don't have the previously assumed alpha structure that some crackpot scientist said they have, and more or less just work as a team?"

"Huh. You didn't look like you were listening."

"What did it look like I was doing?"

"I dunno. Not listening?" She took another swig of wine and glanced at the glass. "Should I have more?" she mused, less to me and more to herself. Even though I'd been entrusted with the bottle. "Ehhh, why the hell not. Top me off, Vinnie."

As I poured her another glass, I replied, "Don't call me that, Lucy."

"Don't call me Lucy, Vincentia."

"That isn't even a nickname."

"Well... um..." She took another swig from her glass. "... Vincentia sounds like a cute name. If you were a chick, your name would be Vincentia."

"... Grimoire honestly preferred the name Valerie to Vincentia. But I wouldn't put it past him."

We shared a laugh over the late Dr. Valentine's naming habits. When I had asked him why he felt the need to name me in such a way that my initials were VVV, he replied, "Ehhhh. Seemed like a good idea at the time." Then again, a lot of people in my family were unfortunately named. Take, for example, Grimoire. Who names their kid after an ancient book?!

Lucrecia placed her glass down next to her and asked, "You know what's a really goofy monster?"

"Vlakaradoses?" I asked. I had dealt with those things once. Never again.

"Well, yes. With the little arms?" She did an impersonation, attempting to match the screech they made when they charged at you in a desperate attempt to eviscerate you.

I laughed and said, "No, no, they don't sound like that. They sound like..." I imitated the screech as best I could, holding my hands up and clawing at the air.

She couldn't stop laughing as I continued to make Vlakarados noises. She tried to cover her mouth, but just one contorted face, one SKREEEEEEEEEEEEE and she was doubled over, wrapping her arms around her stomach. And soon enough, I couldn't help but join her, laughing until my sides hurt.

We were soon flopped back onto the blanket spread out under the tree, trying to still our laughter. My sides ached, and from the looks of it hers were in the same shape. I hadn't really laughed like that in ages. Maybe she hadn't, either.

There was... something in her expression as our laughter died down. Something about her eyes. Something I couldn't quite put words to. I wasn't very good with words, so there was that, but I still couldn't put words to her expression in that moment. And apparently, there was something in my expression, judging by the way she couldn't keep her eyes off of me.

I found myself reaching for her, and her mirroring the motion. Our lips met, and I realized that I had basically left my glass of wine sitting to my right, untouched since she began to blather about monsters. And frankly, tasting it on her lips was a lot more appealing than drinking it.

I pulled away abruptly, muttering, "I shouldn't have done that. I'm..."

"No, no, it's my fault," she reassured me, holding my hand in hers. "I was... sending signals? Is that the phrase?"

"Doesn't matter. I..."

"..."

We were there for a minute, an awkward silence filling the air. That was stupid of me. I shouldn't have done that. I... She finally broke the silence as she sat up, asking, "Did I ever tell you about that monster?"

"Which one?" I asked, refusing to get up.

"It's called the Bagnadrana," she started, "They're these big turtley guys that live out in Corel." I slowly sat up as she continued, desperately trying to talk away what we just did. It was just a kiss, but it felt... "They have the most fascinating digestive tracks!" she offered.

We were... not quite back to the way things were before. She was still talking about monsters, I still couldn't keep my eyes off her... and I noticed that her lipstick was smudged now. I desperately ignored the desire to smudge it further, to... I couldn't even think straight. I'd either had too much, or not enough to drink. But something about this was just, overall... happy. In a weird, weird way.


	2. Sweater Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweater weather means pumpkin, even in Midgar.

It was sweater weather. He was in a nice, dark red sweater with a black scarf. ... I was in a T-shirt. And freezing. And trying not to show it.

He noticed, though. "Are you sure you're not cold?" he asked, more than once. "We could go back to your place and get you a sweater."

"I'm fine, Vincent."

"I think I have an extra coat in the tru--"

"I'm fine, Vincent." I found the concern cute, yet mildly annoying. I had to practically hold his arms down as he started to take his own sweater off. "Really. I'm fine."

After a while, he seemed to get it. He ignored the goosebumps on my arms, the slight way my teeth chattered... until I realized that he had stopped being direct. He kept me a lot closer than usual, held my hands longer, insisted we stop for apple cider and hot cocoa and literally anything warm and pumpkinny.

But then he broke it. "Are you--" he started.

"Fine. Still fine." I clenched my jaw.

"... Do you at least want my scarf?" He looked desperate.

"Vincent. I'm fine. I'm not cold."

He shuffled his feet awkwardly. It was true that I was cold, yes, but... that wasn't his concern. Well, he was making it his concern. He asked again, "Are you sure, absolutely positively sure, one hundred percent positive that you are not cold?"

I started to say something, until I noted his very pointed stare at my chest. I glanced downwards, and felt my face flush. "U-um." I crossed my arms and said, "I uhh... I could probably use a sweater."

Before I'd even finished speakin, he'd pulled off his sweater and practically shoved it over my head. "Thank God," he groaned.

"How long has--"

"Since we left your apartment."

"Why didn't--"

"I wasn't sure how to phrase it without making it seem..." He retied his scarf. "... like I was uhh... staring."

"... Were you?"

He fidgetted nervously with the end of his scarf. "... I'm sorry."

"Did you at least like what you saw?"

He was about as red as his sweater as he nodded.


	3. Snow Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent has literally never seen snow. Best course of action? Snow ball fight.

"LUCRECIA WHAT IS THAT."

I had spent almost all night in the lab. I had not had my coffee yet. I was tired of listening to Hojo prattle on about procedure and results, tired of him staring not-so-subtly down my shirt, tired of Gast also prattling about procedure and results and also history and how weird it is that the subject has an eye-boob. But only to me. Hojo seemed to like the eye-boob. I was not ready for Vincent pointing out the window and practically screaming.

"What." I slowly rolled out of bed. Still in my coat. Still in my heels. My feet ached. Pretty sure I have a blister on my toe. Ow. "What is it, Vincent."

"WHAT IS THAT?!" He continued to point. He was still in his underwear. He'd probably just woken up. It was... probably four or five in the morning. I didn't get how he did that. Always up, always actually awake at five. Meanwhile, I'd drag my sorry ass out of bed at nine or ten, and he'd have a nice breakfast waiting, he'd already gone out for a morning jog, maybe filed some paperwork...

I peered out the window. ... It was snowing. It was late fall, up here in Nibelheim. "It's snow, Vincent." He made a very confused noise. "It's like rain. But cold." I wandered off to go get a cup of coffee.

He handed it to me instead, saying, "Why. Why is it there is it scary is it--"

I took the cup and cut him off, "It's normal for colder climates to have this happen when it gets colder. It's not scary. It's a bit slippery, so be careful walking out there." It didn't really snow in Midgar, or Kalm. I know he'd been assigned to other places on the eastern continent, but he'd never been assigned anywhere that snowed during the winter.

I took a sip. ... The vanilla stuff, my favorite. And with just the right amount of sugar and cream. Vincent remained transfixed by the falling snow. I said, "I'm going to go take a shower or something. If this starts piling up, we could do something later on."

"Oh... okay??" He continued to stare out the window as I retreated into the bathroom.

Later that day, after he'd taken his regular patrol (and had apparently fallen a few times, but was too proud to mention it), I grabbed a pair of boots, my sweater, and him and ran out into the snow. It had piled up considerably, almost a foot's worth of the stuff, and the townspeople were busy shoveling it away. We had grunt scientists for that, as much as Hojo insisted that's why we had Vincent.

Vncent almost slipped three times as we made our way up to the top of the hill, under the tree we both loved. He asked, "Are we going to have a picnic here? Because I was in this stuff earlier and it is cold and makes e--"

He stopped when I beaned him in the side of the head with a snowball.

It was a brief moment of terror, as he reached for his gun and pointed it at me. He then froze and put it away, muttering apologies and murmuring about training and reflexes and more apologies and oh god how could I have done that and... very typical Vincent stuff. I reached down and scooped up another lump of snow, patted it gently, then threw it at him. It hit him right in the shoulder.

"Why?" he asked. "I don't think anyone out here has a dry cleaning service..."

"Because it's fun, you goose." I lobbed another one at him, and he dodged out of the way. "Come on, hit me!"

"Uhh..."

"Oh, but uhh! No face shots. That's rude and against the law."

"Is it?" He knelt down and packed a snowball, then playfully tossed it at me. It hit me square in the chest. ... He's got a good arm. You wouldn't think he'd be so muscular or strong, but he is. And he's got good aim.

"Yes, it is!" I hurled a snowball at him, intending to hit him in the knee. It hit him in the crotch instead. "... Oops." He doubled over and made... decidedly un-Vincent-like noises. I rushed over to him and asked, "Are you... w-will you be okay?"

His face was contorted in pain, eyes shut tight and biting his lip. He managed to nod, and squeaked, "I'll be fine." He doubled down again, groaning, "I didn't need kids anyway."

... R-right. I offered him a hand up, and he graciously took it. "D-do you..." I started.

Before I could finish, he beaned me in the side of the head with a snowball. "Never let your guard down, Lucy," he chided.

I brushed the snow out of my hair and out of my ear. "Didn't you just--"

"... I still hurt, but..." He slowly got to his feet and asked, "Do you want more? Or...?"

I thought about it for a bit, then said, "Let's get inside, out of these clothes. Get some cocoa or cider or something."

"Do we get to keep not wearing clothing?" I chucked one last snowball at him. Satisfyingly, it hit him right in the face.


	4. Gunplay

There was a certain draw to the gun range. It was a public one, not the one we had at HQ, not the one with a million targets all with headshots. This one had people of all skill level firing. People who had just acquired their license, people who'd been doing it for ages...

After a series of break ins, despite me being there not just as her boyfriend but specifically there to protect her, Lucrecia had developed a sort of paranoia and had wanted to have her own gun. She got her license no problem, but it was a matter of learning to shoot.

The instructor gave her some basic pointers (which were all off), set her with some noise-cancelling headphones (which I didn't personally use unless at the range), and let her at it.

The five shots she fired were... well, they were shots. They went out of the gun, alright. They didn't hit the target.

"Ow..." Lucrecia whined, gently massaging her wrists. "How do you do this all the time?"

"Lots and lots of training," I replied. Years of training. Basic training, specialized Turk training, sniper training, lots of practice in between... I was one of the best shots no one really knew about. Vincent Valentine did officially exist, yes, but if people knew he was a Turk... things would not end well for Vincent Valentine. "Want me to show you?"

She nodded, and the instructor asked me for my creds. I had with me one of my licenses, the one that allowed me to shoot up to sniper rifles, the one that let me actually teach. They had me doing some of the training stuff for the newbies. Nothing major. It's not like I'm the best gunman in the organization. Maybe the world. No biggie.

"What exactly am I doing wrong?" she asked.

"Not breathing," I replied, "Or, more like breathing wrong. See," I took a deep breath and said, "If I fired with my lungs all full up of air, the recoil would knock the wind out of me, and screw with my aim." I released my breath and continued, "But if I go in empty, I won't be able to focus as well."

She cocked her head and asked, "What do you do, then?"

"What I found works is you take a deep breath, let it half out, and THEN fire. The amount of air lets you focus, but isn't enough to screw with your aim." I looked at her stance and said, "Your feet are good. It's a good position to be in, nice and square."

"What about my arms?" She raised her arms up, and pointed at the target.

I clicked my tongue. "No, don't hold it like that." I shifted her hands slightly, saying, "If you hold it like that, the recoil will pop it right out of your hands. And then it might conk you in the face, or just drop all together. But if it's like this, you're taking the recoil with your chest, not your arms. Your hands are super flimsy." I backed away and said, "Try it now."

She did. Six shots. ... It was a kind of wide spread, but it at least hit right in the chest two or three times. "... Wow." she remarked. "That really does help."

"And now it's just a matter of practice," I replied. There was something really... alarming about seeing her with a gun. That's my job. ... But I understood why. I understood what she was feeling.

"How good are you?" she asked.

"Do you really want to see?"

"Y-yeah."

I took the gun and fired at the target. Six rounds, right in the chest. "... It's what I do," I replied to her dumbfounded expression. "I've spent far too long with a gun in my hands."

"... It's uhh..." She fidgetted as she pulled off her headphones. "... it's kind of..."

I cocked my head to the side as I took my own off. We made our way out of the range after checking out, picking our things up, and such. "What is it?"

"... Kind of scary."

"... I'm..."

"Like. In a good way." She wrapped her arms around mine. "I wouldn't want to be facing you down, but I'd definitely like you protecting me."

"Thanks...?"

Her hand wrapped itself around mine. "And it's kind of hot."

... Note to self: take Lucrecia to the firing range more often.


	5. The Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucrecia's parents sent her a box. She's not happy about it.

The box sat menacingly on her kitchen table. It had come from Banora, where Lucrecia's parents had moved to shortly after their daughter got a PHD in biology.

"What's in it?" I asked again. Lucrecia vehemently shook her head. The box had arrived today, at our shared apartment. I had placed it on the table, and I came home with it open and Lucrecia glaring angrily at it. "Is it like... what? Help me out here."

She glowered at me, then began to unpack the box. She pulled out the items, one by one. ... There was a box of noodles. "They don't think being a scientist at Shinra pays well," she spat. She had more money to spend than I did, most days. She pulled out more food items, including some cookies. They looked... tasty. With little bits of apple in them. ... She pulled out something that looked very... vibrator-esque. She growled, "No matter how much I tell them that yes, Vincent is a real person, they don't believe me."

"I'm deeply offended."

"I know you are."

"I'm better than a vibrator, right?" She chucked the thing at my head. I managed to dodge it. The last thing she pulled out was... a makeup set. She unzipped the bag, showcasing the contents. Foundation (suited to her skin tone), concealer, two different kinds of lipstick, eye liner, mascara, eye shadow, blush... the works. "... I don't..." I started.

She zipped the bag up and tossed it angrilly onto the couch. "I don't do makeup," she spat. "... Don't have the time. Why do I need to doll myself up when Hojo spends more time staring down my shirt than he does looking at my face when I talk?"

I gently wrapped my arm around her waist and said, "You look fine the way you are."

"I know that," she replied, but I could see the corners of her mouth twitch upwards. "... They've never really liked the whole 'scientist' thing." She groaned. "They want me to be pretty and cute and well put together."

"I think you're pretty and cute and well put together."

"They'll never think so, unless I put on this makeup."

I stroked my chin, then asked, "Does it have to be on you?"

She paused, then said, "... You are a genius."

"No, not me. That's you." She reached over and grabbed the bag. "How beautiful will I be?"

"As beautiful as me."

"Not possible."

An hour later, after several comments of "This color does WONDERS for your eyes", "You have prettier eyelashes than I do", "You should just regularly wear makeup, Vincent", I was allowed to see what she had done to me. ... As she had said, I was... well, the eye shadow did wonders to my eyes, my eyelashes were very pretty, and... I was seriously considering wearing makeup regularly.


	6. The Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucrecia has a nightmare.

The nightmare tossed me from restful sleep.

I wasn't a screamer, not now, and I managed to stifle my sudden intake of breath. He was still asleep, rolled over away from me. Good.

I rolled over to look at the clock. It was three in the morning. I slumped into the pillows with a sigh. My heart was still racing, my mind still reeling as I went over the last few scenes that still hung in my mind. Hojo was there. There was fire, all around him, and...

I jumped a bit when I felt Vincent roll over. He carefully wrapped an arm around my waist and nuzzled his face into my hair. He wasn't asleep anymore. Had he been asleep at all?

"Do you want to talk?" he asked quietly. He had a sense for these things.

I gently shook my head. "No, no, I'm good."

He seemed satisfied with that, and just lay there with me. He knew not to push. He did, though, take my hand in his and hold it, a bit too tightly.

The clock ticked onwards. Three seventeen. My racing heart had finally won its marathon, and was now lounging out in the winner's circle. I finally said, "I had a nightmare."

"I figured," he replied.

"... I dreamt that Hojo set things on fire, or... something equally terrifying."

He chuckled a bit. "Anything involving Hojo is terrifying."

"You don't have to work with him every day."

"When I do, he thinks I'm his personal servant or something." He imitated in his most nasally voice, "Fetch me a coffee, Valentine. Two sugars, black. You can go now, Valentine." He scoffed.

"At least he isn't staring down your shirt regularly. Or calling you sweetcheeks."

He paused, then added, "One time I had a nightmare where he DID call me sweetcheeks." I couldn't help but laugh. He sighed into my hair and said, "I'm right here, Lucrecia. I won't let him hurt you."

"What if you're not there?"

"I'll find a way." He gently squeezed me closer and mumbled something into the back of my head.

"... what was that?"

"Oh, uhh... nothing."

"You sure it wa--"

"Yes, I'm sure." He pressed a kiss against my ear, then said, "We should try to sleep."

There was a moment of silence, then he mumbled into my head. Or, at least, he thought he was speaking into my head. He was instead mumbling into my ear.

I turned around to him, and he blanched. He realized what he'd done. I could almost imagine the way his stomach must be flipping, the thoughts that were running through his head...

I gently kissed his nose and replied, "I love you, too."


	7. Bags

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent has some bags.

I really hadn't expected to see him in this part of town. And apparently, he hadn't expected to see me, either.

He jumped maybe a foot when he saw me, and quickly hid the two bags he was carrying behind his back. He was not that subtle.

"Hey!" he greeted, trying to be casual. "What uhh... what are you doing here?"

"My favorite coffee shop is here. I'm tired and I need some caffeine. Away from Hojo."

He shifted on the balls of his feet. "Oh, really? That's good to hear. I wouldn't think he'd let you out of the dungeon so soon."

"The labs on the 67th floor are not a dungeon."

"They kind of look like it."

"Your father's basement was a dungeon."

"Yeah, don't remind me."

He continued to shift nervously. And judging by the way he was moving his arms behind his back, he was trying to stuff the bags under his jacket or something. "What're you doing around here?" I asked.

"Oh uhh..." He hadn't thought that far. "Umm... just... taking a walk! You know. Getting up and moving. In a new part of Midgar. It's uhh... new and Midgarly."

"What's behind your back?"

"Something's on my back?" He turned around in an attempt to see what was there. ... The bags had disappeared. "I don't... see anything there?"

I furrowed my brow and said, "You were carrying a bag. Or two."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He craned his neck to look over my shoulder. I glanced over as well. There were a lot of little bistros set up in this area, along with cute little shops. "I don't have any kind of bag with me."

He glanced behind him, then continued to shift nervously. "Do you want to join me for some coffee?" I asked.

"Ah, no, sorry sweetheart. I should uhh... probably get going back to the office. You know how Veld gets." He made generally terrifying faces, then scurried past me.

I watched him leave. This was very unli--... oh. It makes sense. Someone at the bistro had placed a bag next to them on an empty chair. Vincent swapped the two bags, then kept going like nothing was happening. He was on a mission. Official Turk business. Even if confidentiality wasn't something he could break, he didn't really like telling me about what he was up to.

... but wait. He was carrying two bags. I watched the person he swapped bags with dig through the contents. He seemed satisfied, and left in another direction.

After my coffee, I was back at my desk. The Chaos project was moving slowly. I'd spoken with the damned thing, but... no one really believed the tape recording I'd presented. They didn't think it was a very good research topic. Jenova, though... with her eye-boob...

Just as I was about to leave, I noticed a small wrapped package on my desk. When did that get there? Maybe while I was out, away from the lab. Or my office. Or... anywhere. More importantly, who was it from?

There was no label, or tag or anything. Just a neatly wrapped box, with white paper and blue ribbon. I tugged away the ribbon and paper, and lifted the top of the box off.

Inside the box was a small clock, adorned with little flowers. There was also a small set of folded paper creatures. A bird, a... another bird... they were all birds. And at the bottom of the package was a little note.

"Dear Lucrecia,"

Oh jeez.

"I know you've been busy, so I tried to keep this as low key as possible. I know how important your work is to you. I'm sorry that all I can fold are cranes. But the good news is these last five make up my thousand for the year. I'm wishing that we can celebrate another year (or ten) together, happily.

Happy dating anniversary!

Vincent"

... O-oh. I had... completely forgotten. It really has been that long, hasn't it? Seasons drifted, but... Wow. I... I've been spending too much time with my work. I...

I slowly got up, and decided that I would do something equally amazing for him. I didn't get what he meant by the birds, but... I'd find something just as sweet for him.


	8. Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucrecia is dedicated to braiding Vincent's hair.

My hair was getting long. Too long.

I mean, I didn't mind having longer hair. Truthfully, I kind of liked it. If I had my way, I'd keep it nice and long, and let it billow in the wind.

But having Lucrecia playing with it, humming over it... kind of made me want to cut it.

"I want to braid it," she concluded. I shuddered. I would do anything for her, really. If she asked me for the moon, I'd pluck it from the sky for her. If she wanted me to jump off a cliff, all she'd need to do is point out which one and I'd do it. But there was something really nervewracking about having her fingers tugging, combing through, pulling and twisting... She rested her head on my shoulder and said, "If you're not okay with this, we can stop."

I nodded. "I'm okay. Just... no pulling, okay?"

"Of course." She reached down into the basket of ribbons and flowers and started to get to work. The hairs along my neck stood on end. "Your hair's so thick," she murmurmed. "It's like... like I dunno. Really thick. Something really thick."

More twisting. My breath was coming unevenly. You're okay, Vincent. You're alright. You trust her. She's alright. She's not going to hurt you.

Suddenly, she stopped.

"Why'd you--" I started.

She plopped down next to me. "You're not okay with this."

"No, I--"

"You're shaking." I looked down at my hands. My fingers were trembling. "I can't do this to you." I shuddered again. I just wanted to make her happy, and if playing with my hair made her happy... "What's wrong?" she asked. Her hands wrapped around mine, stilling the trembling. "Talk to me, Vincent."

I shook my head. It was related to work, and I couldn't talk with her about work. I still remember when it happened, that... that person, a knife, my scalp... "I can't." I shook my head again and continued, "I can't talk about it."

"Why not?"

"Confidential."

Before I could even say it, Lucrecia groaned and said, "EVERYTHING'S confidential, Vincent. We work for Shinra."

"I know, but..."

"And I tell you about my 'confidential' work. I know you can tell me."

I sighed. "... I don't like talking about my work with you."

"Why not?"

"It's bloody work, Lucrecia." I turned to her and said, "We don't just protect people from harm. We do a lot of really, terrible, bloody things. And I don't want you knowing about it."

Her eyebrows furrowed as she asked, "What, do you think I can't handle it?"

"No, it's not that. It's just..." I fidgetted. "It's not that you can't handle it, I just... don't want to dump that on you."

She sighed. "You should let it out, sometime. If not to me, then to someone else." Her thumb stroked one of my knuckles. "I worry about you, you know. I know you can't really talk with everyone about what you do, but you need to work some of these things out."

I looked down into the basket of ribbons and flowers. I offered, "Do you want me to braid your hair?"

"... If you tell me what happened, yes."

"Lucrecia--"

"Vincent. Please." She gently squeezed my hands. "Please."

I sighed and rested my head on hers. "... part of one of my... interviews--"

"I know they're interrogations, Vincent."

"... interrogations... had me basically being interrogated. The person in question used tools to try to get me to talk, while giving me all the information I need."

"And one of those tools was--"

I took her hand and guided it up to part of my scalp, where that person had drawn blood. I pressed her fingers against the mark and said, "I'm just a touch sensitive about my scalp."

She didn't say anything for a while. Her fingers travelled along the scar, a scar that curved in the same way my ear did. Finally, she leaned up and kissed where it was, murmuring, "Kisses make everything better." She sat back down and said, "Thank you. For telling me about this."

I sighed deeply. ... It did feel a bit better to talk about it. And her touch didn't give me chills of terror, didn't put me back into that place, with that person. I guided her hands away, then asked, "Do you want me to braid your hair?"

"Please." She handed me the basket and scooted in front of me, saying, "Get as many ribbons and flowers in there as possible."

"I've never actually braided hair before..."

"Ehhhh. You'll figure it out." She turned around at me and grinned, then turned back around to let me have at it. "I trust you, Vincent."


	9. Apples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent and Lucrecia are apple picking.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THAT?!"

I groaned as I tried to sit up. Nope, nope, too dizzy. Not happening. My back and legs groaned in pain from the fall. I spat back, "Why would you try to tackle the tree to get me down?!"

Lucrecia paced angrily, growling, "You're such a... a... a meathead sometimes!"

"Hey, I am not a meathead! I'm trying that vegetarian thing, just for you." And I hated it. But I wasn't going to say that.

"You know what I mean." She threw herself onto the blanket beneath the tree. "You always need to prove something, don't you? Prove how much of a big strong man you are, prove how cool you are."

I tried to get up again. Nope, my legs hurt too much. There was a dull pounding centered around the knee that broke my fall. "I don't need to prove anything," I replied. "I like proving people wrong."

She sat up and said, "Oh, yeah, sure. And I don't like to measure in quarter cups, because I just use two eighths instead. There's a difference, see?"

"Is this about more than me just climbing trees?" I shifted so I was leaning up against said tree. It was a Banora White, fully fruiting now. And I had told her that the best ones were at the top, and went to go get one, and... well...

Lucrecia got to her feet and paced, growling, "You're always like this."

"What do you mean?"

"You're always putting your health at risk, to show something off."

I cocked my head to the side. "Lucrecia, that's literally my job."

"No, not just about your job. 'Oh, hey, apples in the tree! I am going to go climb up and get the best ones, despite the tree being slick and me wearing dress shoes with no grip!'"

"Hey, my shoes have grip!" I pointed at the soles of my shoes. "I wear these in uniform, and I wear uniform to, you know, chase people and stuff."

She kept glaring at me. "You could have just grabbed some from the lower branches. Like so." She yanked an apple from one of the lower branches.

"First off, don't yank like that. Twist and pull. It hurts the tree."

"You're more concerned about the health of the tree than you are yourself!" I tried to get up again. A muscle spasmed in my leg. "See? You can't even get up."

I shook my head. "I'm fine. Just resting. I'd let you know if I was hurt."

"Vincent, I would bet five hundred MILLION gil that you would assure me you were fine if you were shot and bleeding out on the floor." She knelt down next to me and started to roll up my pantsleg, grumbling, "Your last words to me would be, 'Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm fine.' You'd smile that damned cocky smile of yours, laugh a bit, and then..."

I looked down at my leg. There was a huge bruise forming, right where I fell. Something about my knee didn't look right. "... I wouldn't do that to you," I said. She leaned over and considered her options. "I... Lucrecia, is this... really weighing on you?"

"You kill people pretty much every day, and I've gotten used to that." She dug into the picnic basket and pulled out a first aid kit. "But every day I worry that Veld is going to show up and tell me that you were terminated or something."

"I wouldn't be terminated. They like me."

"Whatever the term is for killed on duty."

"Veld wouldn't show up, either." I winced as she applied some kind of medication to the small cuts from the branches. "He's too busy for that."

"Who would they send?"

"If you're lucky, they'd probably send one of the trainees. And you're lucky. They like me."

"What would they bring?"

"... Probably my personal belongings from my desk, and that's it. You'd find a little box in front of the door."

"That's reassuring." She touched my knee and I gasped. "Does that hurt?" I nodded. "That's not good."

I shifted my other leg. It hurt a bit, and my back ached, but... "Lucrecia, are you... how worried are you about me just going off and dying?"

"Very worried." She started to do something to my knee as she said, "Every day you go out and do a mission, I worry when you'll come back. It's bad when you're gone for two or three days and you come back in the middle of the night and curl up next to me and I wake up and there you are, making breakfast or doing paperwork or just being a morning person."

I brushed some hair away from her face and said, "I'm... I'm sorry I worry you. But--"

"I know. You can't just walk out and say, 'Veld, you can take my gun and shove it up your ass.' That would just make things worse. I'd never see you again." She twisted something and I yelped. "Sorry. ... but... You have seniority, right? Aren't you like... in line to be head of the department?"

The name Valentine still carries a lot of weight. "Yeah... but like, even if I was in charge of the Turks, I'd still be at risk. I'd still be on dangerous missions. Just not as frequently."

"Even if it's less frequent, I'd appreciate it. Just to have that feeling that you'd never come back lessened."

She seemed done with what she was doing. Some bandages were applied to my leg, and my knee certainly looked less like something was seriously wrong. She sat next down to me and held my hand. "... I can try that," I said. "I'll talk with Veld about it."

"Thank you." She rested her head on my shoulder, then took a bite of the apple she had grabbed from the lower branch. She ended up spitting it out. "... I didn't see the worm hole," she sighed.

I handed her the one apple I had grabbed from the top of the tree. She looked at it, and (somewhat begrudgingly) took a bite.


	10. Blankets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone is a blanket hog.

The cold hit me like a brick, pulling me from sleep.

I was still in bed. I hadn't rolled anywhere. My nightgown clung to my body, outlining just how cold I was. I looked over to the side of the bed and couldn't see the blankets.

Then I heard them shifting.

I looked to my other side, and groaned. Vincent had managed to take all three blankets on our bed and wrapped them around himself. He was snuggled up nice and soundly against the crocheted blanket my mother had made me.

Judging by the way he was wrapped around them, he wasn't letting go any time soon. There were two things I could do, to get my warmth back and get some sleep: Cook something really nice smelling, or use my womanly wiles.

Womanly wiles were easier.

I pressed myself up against his back and wrapped my arms around his waist. "Vincent..." I cooed, "Are you awake?"

He grumbled in reply. Good. He can hear me.

I was able to rub his stomach slightly. "Do you want to... do something?"

He grumbled again, but this time it was understandable. "Tryn t'sleep."

So close. "I need you..." I pressed my chest up against him. "Please?"

That seemed to do the trick. He rolled over sleepily, slurring, "Donchu have that... box? Th'one under th'bed."

He was still gripping the blankets tightly. "They don't compare to you." I kissed his nose and cheeks and pleaded, "I need YOU."

"Ffffffffffffffffine." He released the blankets to pull me in closer, peppering my neck with kisses. "Just 'cuz it's you." My chance to strike! I snatched the blankets from him and rolled off the bed. He yelped, then whined, "Why would you do that?!"

"You stole the blankets, and I needed them back!" ... I think I hit my head on the edge of the night stand.

"You could have asked!" He scrambled off the bed to help me back up. "You had me going there, Lucy."

"Keep calling me Lucy and I'll just sleep under the bed with these." I spread the blankets back over both of us.

He pulled me in to his chest, seemingly desperate for my heat. "I'll try not to hog them again, alright?"

"Alright, Vincent. Next time it happens, it'll be worse."

"Don't be surprised if I'm a bit nervous about giving up late night fun times from now on." We lay in silence for a while. Just as I was starting to drift off, he asked quietly, "Do you think we actually could, though?"

I decided against hitting him. I instead pretended to be asleep. He sighed a bit dramatically, then said, "Goodnight, Lucrecia. Sweet dreams."

... He then snatched the first two blankets.


	11. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween parties are fun, right?

Halloween was fun, I guess.

I mean, it's hard to find a costume or make one that actually looks good on me. But I managed, somehow. This year I was dressed up like some sort of witch. Of course, not in the lab. Hojo would murder me. Professor No-Fun-Allowed Hojo didn't allow any fun.

But once I was home, and Vincent was talking about some kind of party, I was all for it. He had invited some guys from work and some friends, and I had, too. Just not Hojo. Anyone but Hojo.

Vincent had actually stepped out to get more candy. I had asked for drinks, but apparently Veld had been having some issues with that and he wasn't about to encourage it. Gast was the first to arrive, bringing that... odd woman. Ifalna, was it? Gast had decided to be some manner of wizard, while Ifalna just looked... confused.

Veld and some other Turks showed up a bit later, just wearing their suits and having a generally good time. There was chatting, mingling... and then...

"Hello, sweetcheeks."

I practically screamed when I heard Hojo behind me. There he was. Same old boring office clothes. Hunched, shuffling gait. Glasses perched right on his nose.

"... Professor," I started calmly. Gast was watching intently. Ifalna had scurried off. The Turks were... snickering. "You're not invited."

"I'm not invited?" he asked. "Well, then, Dr. Crescent, I guess that just means you're off the job." He adjusted his glasses and shuffled further into the apartment.

I grabbed him by the arm. ... was he always this muscular? "Professor. You need to leave." The Turks continued snickering. "You can't just walk into my house and..."

I stopped. ... Why were the Turks snickering so much? Ifalna had quietly appeared again, snatching up all the chocolate bits in the candy bowl. Gast had relaxed. What the hell. ... I realized suddenly that Hojo did not actually call me sweetcheeks. Unless we were alone. And the door was locked.

"... God DAMMIT Vincent." I swore.

Vincent doubled over laughing. The other Turks were in on it, too. It looks like they had managed to nab Hojo's coat, and apparently part of Vincent's wardrobe CREEPILY resembled Hojo's regular attire. A little bit of makeup, a bit of acting...

"I am never forgiving you," I grumbled.

He patted me on the back, now back up to his full height. "Even though I got you cinnamoogles?"

"... okay, maybe I forgive you." I snatched the bag of cinnamoogles from him. Soft, creamy cookies shaped like moogles, filled with some sort of cinnamony jam or something. I have no idea how to describe them, other than amazing.

"I'm so glad." He dumped the rest of the candy into the candy bowl and said, "You're going to have to sneak this back into Hojo's office or something. I think he knows I took it."

"Damn straight I do."

All of us froze as the actual, real Professor No-Fun-Allowed showed up. Without a coat. And very, very angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally don't care that it's September. Halloween is fun to write about.


	12. Intruder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an intruder.

The rain that day wasn't one of those typical summer Midgar rains, the kind that was warm and pleasant and kind of comforting. No, the rain that day was cold and icy, blown into your skin by a bitter wind. It was pouring, windy, and miserable.

I stood stock still, with my umbrella over my head. Waiting. I had a job to do.

The file. I remember Veld handing it to me. Bodyguard duty. The person in question was a scientist. Relatively new. I knew pretty much everything about her, and her situation.

Her name was Dr. Lucrecia Crescent. She stood at five foot three, born July 22nd, bloodtype B, born somewhere around Gongaga. Has a PHD in biology. And has been receiving very threatening letters, indicating that someone wanted to kill her.

I heard heels clicking frantically behind me, moving in my general direction. It was late. The street was deserted. It had to be her. I turned around to see her moving as quickly as she could in her heels.

She stopped when she saw me. Her eyes widened. She backed up slightly as I asked, "Dr. Crescent?"

She turned and ran. Significantly faster than she was when she was just trying to get home. Great. I closed up the umbrella and gave chase.

I didn't have to run far. At some point she had stumbled and fallen, and was now unable to get up. She backed up as far as she could and whimpered, "Please don't kill me."

"You think I'm trying to kill you?" I found myself vaguely offended. If I had wanted to kill her, she would have been dead already. I wouldn't have stood and waited for her. I would have gotten into another building and just took her out from there.

She nodded. "T-that's what Turks do, right?"

"Well, yes." She tried to get to her feet again. It looks like she sprained her ankle when she fell. "It's not all we do, though."

"You torture people, too?"

"Very rarely." Well, I very rarely did anything like that. And it wasn't technically 'torture', per se, it was more interrogation. With uhh... very cruel ways. "But we also protect people. Like you."

She tilted her head to the side. "So you're..."

I offered a hand up, and opened up my umbrella over her. I said as reassuringly as possible, "I'm here to make sure you stay safe." She brushed herself off. She favored one leg over the other. "I'll bandage that up when we get in."

She asked, "You're seriously not going to kill me?"

"Dr. Crescent, if I had wanted to kill you, you wouldn't even know what I would look like." She shuddered at the thought. "Let's get you inside. Out of these wet clothes."

Once we were inside, I canvased the area whilst she brewed herself a hot cup of tea. As much as tea sounded lovely at the moment, I had other things to do. Like... secure the window in the bathroom. Or the bedroom. Or the living room.

"Do you always leave your windows open while you're out?"

"It keeps the place cooler." She had changed into her robe, something soft and blue. She plopped onto the couch with her tea as I busied myself closing as many windows as possible. "Saves on the electricity, you know?"

I nodded in understanding. My apartment was in a building similar to this one. And the rooms heated up like ovens. "Even still, with someone after your life..." I chided. She glared at me slightly, but resumed drinking her tea. It smelled like some sort of chai. Warm and soothing.

I froze. My hand flew to my gun as I made my way to the bedroom. The window I had just closed was now open. And it sounded like something was thumping in the closet.

Yup. There's the problem. Young fellow. With a knife. Ready to kill a scientist.

With the problem taken care of, and the body removed, I made to leave. She caught my hand and... well, practically begged me to stay the night. "I mean," she said, trying to reason it out, "We don't know if he was working alone, right?" Truth be told, we had kind of figured it was one suspect. But I didn't want to tell her that. "And besides, it's late anyway." She had a point. I lived in another sector entirely. I wasn't up to walking home now.

I agreed that I'd spend the night. You know. Just to make sure she was okay. Sleep on the couch and stuff. Maybe even drink a cup of tea, just to make sure it wasn't poisoned.

It wasn't poisoned, by the way. It was delicious.


	13. Crafts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent picks up a craft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains body horror. Please be warned. Thank you.

It really did start innocently enough.

Lucrecia had mentioned that she liked handmade gifts. She liked the thought and energy that went into them. Buying something was one thing, but making it? That's a whole other ballpark.

I picked up embroidery. I'd make her a little something to hang in her office. Brighten up her day.

I was not very good.

But there was something really... consuming about it. While I had the little needle in my hand, following the little pattern, there was nothing else. There was no guilt about murder or torture, no concerns about what people thought of me. There was needle. There was thread.

The first thing I made was a really simple little thing, embroidered text that read "You are loved". I knew she needed to see and hear that sometimes. I ruined three little bases making it. It was really, really simple. And she loved it. She hung it up in her office, in a place she could see it. She kissed my cheek.

I could not stop.

The next project was a cat. Veld had just moved into a big office, and he had nothing on his wall. Posters and such were against the rules, but not embroidered cats. It took me a while, but he seemed to appreciate it.

I could not stop.

My skill with a needle grew. I relaxed more and more with it in my hands. After a hit, I relaxed by embroidering something. After an interrogation, I relaxed by embroidering something. Dogs. Cats. Chocobos. Moogles.

It grew from there. After a fight, I embroidered something. Before bed, I embroidered something. I found myself drawn into craft stores. More needles. More patterns. More thread. So many threads.

People got concerned. "Vincent," Lucrecia practically pleaded as I considered two different shades of red. "We're going to be late. We can come back later."

People got angry. "VALENTINE." Veld was about as red as the two different kinds of thread I had been looking at earlier. "PLEASE stop picking my door lock just to leave me motivational embroidered things on my walls. I'm running out of space."

People got confused. I overheard from Hojo once, "Dr. Crescent, do you know the origin of the umm... embroidered phalluses on my walls?" Thankfully, Lucy didn't spill the beans then. She just snickered and shook her head.

The breaking point was when I took my kit in for an interrogation. I had a needle I wasn't particularly fond of. I... may or may not have sewn terrifying threats into a young man's arms, to make him talk.

He talked. He talked so much. He wouldn't stop talking.

After that incident, my kits mysteriously disappeared. Lucrecia wouldn't tell me where they were. They were gone from my desk, from my car, from my room, my closet, everywhere. They were gone. They thought they could stop me.

I picked up knitting. In secret.

It started small. Veld found Wutaian worry dolls in his mail box. Lucrecia found them, too. Hojo found a small sack of "miniature phalluses" in his. It grew from there. Socks. Hats. Gloves. Sweaters. I couldn't ask anyone for their measurements, so I just made them to fit me. Lucrecia soon had a set of matching socks, gloves, hat, scarf, and sweater.

They figured out it was me, after a while. They tolerated it. Hojo still didn't know why he was getting "intricately knitted phalluses" on his desk, at his house, tucked into his bed, or anywhere else conceivable. But Lucrecia knew that every little worry doll was made by me. The scarves and sweaters, too.

The turning point was when I knit her a set of... well, unmentionables.

Shortly after that, my knitting supplies disappeared. They thought it was over. They thought they could stop me.

They didn't know that I had picked up crochet.


	14. Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent catches a nasty cold.

Vincent Valentine is a stubborn man.

Of course, I'm stubborn, too. But today it was a matter of which of us was more stubborn.

I had been woken up by him coughing and sneezing. He was usually very quiet in the mornings. He woke up at four, bright and early. He went for a jog. He made breakfast. There was a pot of coffee made every morning when I dragged myself out of bed at seven.

He sniffled, and I rolled over. It was four-thirty. His face was drawn and pale, his nose about as red as his eyes, both their usual pigmentation and their current state. He rubbed at his temples and grumbled, "Go back to sleep, Lucy." His voice was thick and congested.

I sat up. There had been some kind of bug going around. Veld had picked it up. Hojo had gotten it somehow. He still went in to work, though. Despite him sneezing on my samples. Thanks for that, Professor. I pressed the back of my hand to his forehead. "... You have a fever," I informed him.

"And the sky is gray," he replied.

"... It's blue, Vincent."

"Not in Midgar it ain't." He tried to laugh at his joke, but ended up coughing instead. It was a deep, echoing, reverberating cough. The kind that shook your ribs, the kind that was trying to get gunk out of your chest.

I frowned deeply. "You should stay home."

He laughed and got out of bed. "Nnnnnnnnope," he replied. He stretched upwards, then doubled over with more coughing. "Ow. ... I'm fine."

I got up with him and tried to push him back into bed. "Stay in bed," I warned him. "You're going to get the other guys sick."

"Veld's a walking contamination center," he replied, easily sidestepping my push. "They're going to get sick from him, so I don't see the need to stay home for their sake."

He started to go and get his jogging clothes. I stepped in front of the dresser, scolding, "No jogging, at least."

"Maybe a good jog will help loosen up what's in my chest?" He smiled hopefully. His smile wilted in the face of my glare. "Lucy, come on..."

"Bed. Now." I pushed him back into bed. He didn't resist this time. I grabbed our three blankets and wrapped him up in them. "Sleep. Now."

Vincent continued his grumbling, but ultimately didn't object. As soon as he sounded like he was asleep (he had a wheezing snore in his sickness; he usually slept very, very quietly), I made my way to the kitchen.

It was still too early for me to properly function. It was four fourty-five by this time. Really, I should just curl up back in bed. Get more sleep. But no. That's not what I decided to do.

First off, I made a pot of coffee. I was going to need it. I didn't even set out Vincent's cup. I was just going to drink from the pot itself if I needed to. Secondly, I rummaged through our cabinets. Neither of us were very soupy people, but we kept some soup just in case.

... the only soup we have is Banora apple soup. How do you even make soup out of apples?!

I was just about to pour it into a pot to heat it up when I saw the expiration date. It had gone bad two years ago. ... New project: clean out the cupboards.

I packed up my purse, then made my way to the market. This was one of the few times I was actually glad that Midgar did not sleep. There were a lot of all-night shops, including a rather creepy little supermarket. But they had chicken noodle. They had cold medicine that I didn't trust. There had been some kind of incident in another sector where someone had tampered with the medicine, and a lot of people got even more sick. I wasn't about to risk that.

I returned at five-fifteen. He was up again, his nose dribbling and his chest heaving. I growled, "Did you go out on a jog?" He smiled that cat-that-ate-the-canary smile of his. I barked, "Bed. NOW."

"But..."

"B. E. D. Do not make me tie you there." I paused, then remembered that he actually liked that. "... Just... go lie down. I'm going to make you some soup."

"Can I at least shower first?"

"Fine. Shower." He slunk off to the bathroom. I made my way to the kitchen. The coffee was done brewing. I poured myself a cup and downed it in one shot. ... That was a bad idea. I take my coffee like I take my men: impossibly sweet and very, very pale. I shuddered as impossibly bitter and very, very dark coffee made its way through my system. Right. Time to make some soup.

I poured the can out into a pot and started to heat it up. The shower squeaked off, and I could hear Vincent coughing some more. I grabbed the cold medicine we had in the cabinet and prepped some for him.

When he emerged from the bedroom, he was in his suit, ready for work. "No." I ordered, pointing at his clothes. He was still doing up his tie. "No suits."

"No suit?" he asked. "What'm I going to--" cough, cough, wheeze, cough, "... go to work in?"

"NOTHING."

"... Lucy, I like Veld, but I'm not showing up to work nude."

"YOU ARE NOT GOING TO WORK."

He pouted, grumbling, "I need to go, Lucy."

"No, you don't." I steered him towards the kitchen and plopped him down. I handed him some medicine and spooned him some soup, saying, "The both of us are staying home today."

"Why?" he asked.

"You're staying home because you're sick. I'm staying home to take care of you."

"Won't Hojo be--"

"FUCK Hojo." ... Do not actually fuck Hojo. He is not worth it. I didn't say that to him, though. That was a conversation we could have later when he wasn't coughing up a lung.

Vincent scowled as he looked down at his soup. "... we never have chicken noodle. We always have--"

"Banora apple soup. Yes. I know." I fixed myself a second cup of coffee, my patience growing thin. "Expiration date was two years ago. I put it in a box and delivered it to Hojo's house." I sat down with my coffee and said, "I went to the store to get this. Now eat up, before I start spoonfeeding you."

He sighed and spooned some into his mouth. I sipped my coffee. Finally he was starting to get it. He asked, "Why are you doing this?"

"You would do the same for me."

The noodle on his spoon dangled over the soup. His eyebrows were deeply furrowed, practically making a unibrow. A cough rippled through him. He finally said, "This is really good soup." He got up and continued, "I'm going to get changed out of my suit and into some pajamas." He made his way into the bedroom.

Finally.

I got myself a bowl of cereal. He came back into the kitchen in his pajamas and gave me a hug, saying, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

He plopped down and ate up the last of his soup. He asked, "Do you want to watch a movie or something? I can make--"

"You can eat more soup. I got four cans of the stuff." He groaned. "... But yeah, a movie sounds nice."


	15. The Attic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The attic of the old Valentine house is full of memories.

The box was old and musty. Like everything that had been in Dr. Valentine's attic. Musty. Old. Very, very musty.

We had found almost all of the important things we were looking for. Vincent was now thoroughly terrified of bats, but I didn't blame him.

This box he had was something he had stopped and poured over.

I finished up what I was doing and checked on him. I asked, "What's up?"

He pointed to the contents.

I peered over his shoulder. "... Is that...?" I asked.

He shook his head and pulled out the first thing. A framed photo of his father and a young woman. "No, that's not her," he replied. "Casual reminder: BASTARD SON."

Oh right. Of course Dr. Valentine wouldn't have a framed photo of his Wutaian mistress. I asked, "Wife?"

"Yyyyyyyyyyyyyup." He set the picture aside and kept digging. "Miranda Valentine. Mother to my half brother Veli." He scowled slightly. "She was a decent enough woman. Died when I was three, when Veli was born. Muqin tried to raise him like she did me. It was still pretty obvious which of us was favored."

This was the sort of thing we had dug up in this house. Vincent's issues with his family. He was the sole beneficiary of the whole estate, but he still had a lot of anger in his heart. He had told me that even though he was the elder of Grimoire's two children, his brother (who I now had a name to call him by) was definitely the preferred one. Veli was set to inherit everything Grimoire had, while Vincent was... well.

I asked cautiously, "What happened to him again?"

Vincent laughed darkly. He pulled out some more pictures of Miranda, and then some pictures of a young boy. I couldn't tell if it was him or Veli. "He found some of Father's research. Started releasing it to competing science firms." He pulled up a picture of the three of them, posing awkwardly. Vincent was noticably set to the side. "He was my first target."

The attic suddenly felt colder. I wrapped my arms around myself as the wind howled outside. I asked, "What... did he say?"

"His last words were, 'And that is why I am a bachelor. Do you guys want lunch?' He didn't see me coming."

"... Did... his friends see you?"

He nodded. "They ran past me as I approached him to clean up. No one minds the tall guy in the dark suit."

I could feel my stomach twisting inside me. I knew that the Turks did a lot of dirty work, but... for him to talk so casually about killing his own brother? I asked, "What did... your father say?"

"He was the one who made the Turks aware that there was an information leak."

"Did he--"

"Know I did it personally? No." I felt my throat closing up as he continued, "He was aware that I played some role in it. He had looked over my files at his own leisure."

I slowly sat down. There was... a sort of unease between us now. What if he had been ordered to kill me? What if he had been tasked with putting one between my eyes? Would he do i--of course he would do it. It was either he do it or he died.

He continued pulling things out of the box. Things of Miranda's. Things of Veli's. Baby pictures. The occassional toddler picture of his. I could tell by the brownish-red hue of his eyes compared to Veli's blue. His nose was shaped differently, too. He sighed a bit and said, "I literally have no idea what to do with this house."

"Sell it?"

"Not an option. It's been in the family for generations. I'm already in a sorry state, being his bastard and the sole heir to the family name. My aunt and uncles are uhh... well, they got snipped out of the family for a reason."

"Move in?"

"This place is way too much space for the two of us." He laughed a bit at that. Then, he stopped. He said, "We'd have to fill it up, in some way."

Oh no.

"... Lucrecia?" he started.

OH NO.

"How do you feel about kids?"

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

I tried to hide my panic as best I could with a non-commital shrug. "Ehh."

He stroked his chin, then kept going through the box. He said, "I mean... on the one hand I love the idea of kids. But on the other hand, you'd end up doing all the hard work."

I scowled and asked, "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean you'd end up having the thing live in you for most of a year, then either have it squeezed out of you or ripped out of you."

"... Oh. I thought you meant like..."

"Like doing parenting? I'm a jerk, but not THAT much of a jerk." That got a little bit of a giggle out of me, but not enough to alleviate the terror gripping my stomach. "But not just you doing the hard part. I... with my job, I can't guarantee if I'd be around enough for the little bugger." He turned to me and asked, "I mean... what are your thoughts?"

There was an astounding moment of clarity in my mind as I realized that I could literally talk with Vincent about this sort of thing. That he wasn't my mom, that he wasn't my dad, that he wasn't going to push me in one direction or another. That if I said I wanted to have a baby, he'd be with me every step of the way. That if said I didn't want to, he'd still staywith me. That if I changed my mind, he'd still be there, still caring. I took a deep breath and said, "I've studied pregnancy, you know. It's... well, it's not exactly easy on you. Like you said, it's the hard part. And... it terrifies me."

He put down the last thing from the box. Most of it looked like junk. He wrapped me up in his arms, saying, "Then we don't have to have kids."

"Don't you like... need to spawn an heir or something?"

He barked out a laugh. "Hilarious. Fuck what every relative, every other person in this upper eschalon of Kalmgar life. Fuck what they say about what I'm supposed to do with this family." He let me go and haphazardly piled everything he'd gone through back into the box. He said, "If they wanted me to care about this family, maybe they should've made this family care about me."

He did have a point, there.


	16. The Parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The parents are here.

I couldn't help but swear a bit when someone came and knocked on the door.

Crochet time is VINCENT TIME, dammit. This had better be that confused pizza guy who keeps thinking the apartment is 524B, not 542B like it is. Free pizza would be nice. Or just to dick over those dicks in 524B. Dicks. Heh heh.

I'm an adult.

I had my bunny pajamas on. They were a gift from Veld, a joking present that got me laughing on my birthday. It was a onsie, but I kept the top unzipped and flopped around my waist. A T-shirt was much more comfortable.

I opened up the door, and... that is not free pizza. Or free Wutaian food. Dammit. It was an older couple, carrying some light luggage and a couple wrapped presents. I cocked my eyebrow and asked, "Can I help you?"

The woman spoke first, saying, "Oh, goodness! I'm so sorry, young man. We must have the wrong room."

The man fumbled up a piece of paper, grumbling, "I couldn't understand what she was saying, in the first place. I could've sworn it was 542B..."

"Are you sure it's not 524B? A lot of people get us mixed up."

The woman thought for a bit, then asked, "Well, if we told you her name, do you think you could tell us where she lives?"

Truthfully, I didn't know that many people on my floor. But hey, might as well. "Lay it on me," I replied as easily as possible.

"We're looking for a Ms. Lucrecia Crescent."

Ohhhhh. THESE are her parents! She had said they would be over sometime this week. I just hadn't expected them. I nodded. "Yeah, this is her place."

They collectively looked confused. Mr. Crescent laughed and said, "Oh, you're quite the charmer, sir. Now where does she live?"

... Really? I sighed and said, "Apartment 542B in this building. A.K.A., this apartment. The one I'm standing in."

He asked, "Are you house sitting or something?"

"... I live here."

They shared more confused glances. Mrs. Crescent mumbled, "She's letting this... bum live with her?"

Wow. Thanks. I offered a hand and said, "I'm sure you've heard of me. I'm Vincent Valentine. Your daughter's boyfriend, man of her dreams, love of her life, et cetera." The two of them looked very, very, VERY confused. I had heard that they didn't think I actually existed. But to find out that I do, and that I wear bunny footie pajamas around the house? That's a bit of a shock for them. I stepped aside and said, "Please, come in. Make yourselves at home."

They obliged. They really... didn't know much about me. They didn't know that from where they were bustling about in our spare bedroom I could think of about fourteen different ways to kill them. Some of them bloody. Some of them painful. Some of them a little bit of both.

Once they were out in the living room, I asked, "Tea?"

"... Lemon, with honey?" Mrs. Crescent asked. I could see Lucrecia's face in her. And I could see that she had the same nervous habit of picking at her fingers.

We didn't really... chat much. I tried to engage in conversation. They were continuously dumbfounded by my existence. And my bunny pajamas. They were insatiably comfortable, thoroughly alarmed, and continually thinking I was actually a bum.

The ice was broken when the door opened, then slammed. Lucrecia was NOT in a good mood. She kicked off her heels and got into her Hojo voice, saying, "Hey Sweetcheeks, I know you're working on your super awesome theorem that you've literally spent YEARS and quite possibly HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF GIL on, but could you come over here and stir this serum for me? I want to go get my butt waxed or something equally frustrating. While you're at it, could you get me a coffee, two cream, no sugar? Thanks, Sweetcheeks." She paused, then screeched, "If I get called 'sweetcheeks' ONE MORE TIME, I am going to break into your gun cabinet and SHOOT SOMEONE."

"Oh, please don't shoot me," I replied as nonchalantly as possible. The parents were very, very alarmed. This was the first they had heard of me having any manner of gun. "We have company, and no one wants to get blood on them."

"Ah, shit. Are my folks--"

"Hi, sweetie," Mrs. Crescent greeted. The four of us stood and sat in very awkward silence.

Mr. Crescent finally cleared his throat and asked, "So um... Lucy, who's your... friend?"

"Vincent," she replied, wrapping an arm around my waist. "My boyfriend. Man of my dreams. Love of my life."

"I told them that," I said. "They didn't believe me."

"I blame the bunny pajamas."

"They're super comfortable, though!"

"... yeah, they're pretty cute. Like you." She got up on her tip toes to plant a kiss on my cheek. She turned to her folks and said, "He's a sweetheart, really. He makes me tea. Keeps me safe."

Mr. and Mrs. Crescent continued to be confused. I had a feeling that they just couldn't process that yes, their daughter had a fairly attractive boyfriend who dresses in bunny pajamas and has a gun locker in their daughter's apartment.

We all finally sat down, with some tea and coffee for Mr. Crescent. He apparently didn't quite get either his wife or his daughter's fascination with tea. Frankly, I didn't get it either, but hey, a nice cup of tea is always welcome. It warms you up and doesn't make me as jittery as a cup of coffee would right now.

"We um..." Mrs. Crescent started, "We brought presents."

Lucrecia and I were sharing the love seat. Mr. and Mrs. Crescent had occupied the couch almost entirely. Lucrecia said, "Oooooooooh. Presents." They placed the presents on the table. They were cutely wrapped up. One of them was noticably placed much farther away from us than the other two. Mr. Crescent cleared his throat. Lucrecia handed me a box and said, "Here. Happy birthday."

"Oh, you remembered?" I asked jokingly as I took off the ribbon. My birthday was in two weeks, actually. I had asked for more footie pajamas. She punched my arm, and I took off the lid. "... what is this?" I asked.

"An incense burner!" Mrs. Crescent said. "There's also some incense to burn."

Can't you just set it on fire? I shrugged and put it aside. Lucrecia had grabbed the smaller box, which contained the sticks of incense. They smelled nice enough. The third box she snatched up eagerly, then ripped into. The lid was taken off, and...

"... Mom..." Lucrecia growled, putting the box down.

Mrs. Crescent laughed nervously, saying," I didn't know you had a boyfriend, sweetie..."

"I told you like ten times," Lucrecia countered. The box was set down in a huff. I took a peek, and...

... Oh.

I cleared my throat and said, "Well. That's uhh... something."

Mr. Crescent cleared his throat as well. "We're just uhh... thinking about her, you know," he explained.

"My dad threw a box of condoms at my head and said, 'Go nuts'. Can't you just do that?"

"Well..." He shrugged. "We figured she was just making you up to make us worry less."

I sighed deeply. "Learn to listen to your daughter, man."

Lucrecia was now prodding at the THING in the box. She whispered, "It's squishy."

"Ew," I replied. "... Can we burn it?"

"Please do." She leaned back and said, "Well. This'll be a fun week."


	17. Lacey Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucrecia has a surprise for Vincent.

"I saw something and thought of you."

Literally the sweetest thing anyone can ever say to you is that set of seven words. "I saw something and thought of you." It's saying you know someone well enough that you can see something, and that person pops into your head. And it says that you would get something to make someone happy.

Lucrecia said that to me as she walked in to the apartment. Immediately I was off the couch. She had a bag hidden behind her back, a sly smile on her face. I asked, "What is it?"

"It's a secret." Her voice was singsongy. Oh boy. She said, "Go into the bedroom and close your eyes."

Oh BOY.

I scuttled into the bedroom. Oh boy oh boy oh BOY! I dug down into the bedside table and started to pull out what I thought was necessary. Should I get out of the bunny pajamas? No, she likes the bunny pajamas. I zipped it all the way up and pulled the hood over my head. ... the hood has ears.

I was practically buzzing with excitement, in the same way the THING Lucy's parents gave her did before we burnt it for being... creepy. Still can't believe her parents give her toys.

All of a sudden, the door was kicked open. All of my excitement turned to terror as Lucrecia burst in with a gun in her hands.

We stared at each other. She looked down at me and cleared her throat. I shifted my legs. The gun was obviously fake. I cleared my throat and said, "I uhh... I was expecting something with more... lace."

"Oh, no. That's for later." She winked at me. "No, no, it's a game! Wanna come play with me?"

"Uhh... sure." I tried to get up, but then asked, "Can we have lace now?"

"Just go to the bathroom."

"But..." That death glare got me running into the bathroom.

When I emerged, Lucrecia had set up the game. It was some kind of projector thing that showed ducks flying around on the wall. With the gun she was holding, she was shooting them out. She said, "It's called Duck Hunt. It's from like Wutai or something."

I watched her play a little longer. She handed me the gun. "This does seem like my sort of thing," I told her. Shooting things? Awesome. No blood? Also awesome. Shooting bloodless ducks? Praise be.

Still would've liked lacey things.


	18. Homesick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucrecia longs for home.

It was an icy, icy rain, whipped up by wind and cold and general Midgar awfulness. The rain in Midgar was always awful. It was dirty rain. Nothing like the rain back home.

The sky was darker than normal. It was always night in Midgar, even when it wasn't, just because of how bad the sky was.

The rain suddenly stopped. Well, at least over me. I grumbled, "I just want to be alone."

Vincent replied, "You're going to catch cold." He cares too much. I wrapped my arms around myself for a bit of warmth. He didn't try to touch me, not yet. He asked, "What can I do to help?"

I shook my head. My wet hair slapped me in the face. "... I want to go home," I replied. "I want to... go back home and sleep in a treehouse and see the sky and breathe without feeling like my lungs are going to die."

He tentatively reached over to brush the wet tendril of hair away from my face. I never did like being touched while I was upset. He got that. He said, "I don't know if I can get that for you."

"That's the problem." I sighed. "Getting a vacation is a pain in the ass. Getting a plane ticket is a pain in the ass. And expensive. I'd have to stay with my parents, and you know how they are."

Vincent did not like having my parents at the apartment for a week. He was very excited to see them go. He continued to hold the umbrella over my head, being sure to not get too close.

I asked, "You know what would make me feel better?"

"What?"

"Mangelwurzel stew."

"Mangawhat?"

"Mangelwurzel."

"Mangen whatzel?"

"Mangelwurzel."

"Mangelw... whir?"

"Mangelwurzel."

"Mangelwurzel?"

"Yes, that's it."

He looked so happy to have said it right. He then furrowed his brow and asked, "What's a mangelwurzel?"

I shrugged. "A kind of beet. They grow back home and make the finest stew you could imagine."

"I dunno," he replied, "I like beef stew."

"Well, we all know you like beef, Vincent." I winked at him, then said, "Come on. Let's get inside where it's warm."


	19. Stew

The rain continued for maybe a week. Cold. Icy. There were howling winds, too. No one seemed at all pleased.

I was still desperately homesick. Not for the company of my parents. They'd been here for a week. I didn't need to see them again.

No, I missed greenery. I missed fresh air. I missed mangelwurzel.

That quickly changed.

I walked into the apartment and was assaulted by a strange scent. Vincent liked to cook, and he admitted he wasn't terribly good at it, but it was nice to come home to something home made that I didn't have to cook.

"What is that I smell?" I asked cautiously. It was... familiar, yet unfamiliar.

My response was pans and metal things clanging in the kitchen, the sound of something whistling angrily, and a string of swears.

I approached the kitchen, laughing, "I smell disaster, perhaps?"

"YOU SMELL NOTHING!" Vincent practically squeaked. Everything in the kitchen was in disarray. There were pots and bags from the grocery store and--me being pushed out of the kitchen by a man in my "I ♥ My Turk Boyfriend" apron. Truthfully it had just said "I ♥ My Boyfriend", but one of us decided to fix that. "Out with you!" he scolded, brandishing a wooden spoon. "Go umm... I dunno. Just. Not here."

If there was a door to our kitchen, he would have slammed it. I stood in the entry way for a minute, watching him stir and check on things (and things fall and generally make noise), then decided to leave him to it. It was obviously some kind of surprise.

Sitting on the table in front of the couch was a small pot, with something very small and green starting to sprout from it. I couldn't imagine how it was able to grow in Midgar. Maybe it has been planted in Kalm soil, a kind of soil not as polluted as Midgar's soil, and left under a lamp in someone's office or something.

As I was pondering the small plant, Vincent emerged from the kitchen with a bowl. There was a dark brownish red streak running across the apron, smudging over the T in Turk and down to the END in Boyfriend. The apron now read, "I ♥ My urk Boyfri".

He placed the bowl of soup in front of me, saying, "Growing things is hard." He plopped down on the couch next to me with his own bowl of... something. "I spent who knows how long on that little bugger."

I looked down at the bowl. It was filled with some manner of stew, from the looks of it. It smelled wholesomely... familiar yet unfamiliar. I pointed at it and asked, "What is this?"

"Food," he replied, spooning some into his mouth. He considered his handiwork, then said, "Not poisoned. Thank god."

Not poisoned.... oh boy... I stirred my spoon around in the stew. It was very rich in broth. There were chunks of beef and vegetables. Did he make beef stew? I hesitantly spooned some into my mouth, and...

...

"How did you get this recipe?" I asked. There was no doubt about it. As much as it smelled a little different, and tasted a little different...

He shrugged and replied, "Apparently your mom likes me." My mother's mangelwurzel stew. He had made it, probably from scratch. He continued, "I called her up and asked if she had a recipe for the stuff. I didn't even need to say that you wanted it. She just told me all of it."

As I continued to eat, he went on, "I... couldn't get all of the right ingredients. Very specific manners of celery were requested, and I couldn't find them at the grocery store. There was also some kind of seasoning I couldn't find, so I tried to use something that sounded similar."

"Shhhhhhh," I said, putting a finger to his lips to stop his rambling. I moved his hand down to the stew and said, "Eat. It's really, really good. I don't care if it's not quite like my mom's."

He smiled a bit. He said, "I wasn't able to get you a vacation to back home. But..." He pulled out a file and continued, "Both of us are heading to Nibelheim, at least. There's something Hojo related, yeah, but... hey, it's better than Midgar, right?"

I asked, "Did you pull strings to go with me?"

"You did say you wanted me doing more... safer things. They said this should be a real easy job. Just make sure no one comes in and kills you guys, that's all." He winked and said, "Being on Veld's good side helped a little bit."

Nibelheim, huh... I've been before. It's cold. The air is crips and clean. It's better than Midgar, I'll give it that.


	20. Monsters and Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story ends how it began.

"Hey."

My voice echoed through the small cave, bouncing off crystals and rocks and cavernous walls before returning to me.

I approached the center and asked, "How have you been?"

No response.

"I've been doing okay," I said as I sat down next to the giant crystal in the center. "I finally got one of those new phones, the ones I told you about before." I wrangled the thing out of my pocket. "It folds up to fit in your pocket. Cloud does nothing but send me messages about cats. He takes pictures, too."

Navigating the little thing was kind of hard. I was able to get to the pictures, offering them up. "He has a problem, I swear," I chuckled as I flicked through the pictures. So many cats. He once told me that he'd always wanted a cat, so once he and Tifa agreed on it, he just... adopted all of them. Every stray cat in Midgar and Edge and Kalm was now under the direct ownership of Cloud Strife.

I reached into the bag I brought, saying, "I brought your favorite. Red wine, with just a hint of Banora apple. I know you've always loved those apples." I poured out two glasses, even though I knew she wouldn't be having any. "It's weird," I continued, bringing the glass to my lips. Slightly bitter, with just a hint of sweetness. I would've preferred to taste it on her lips, but beggars can't be choosers. "I could literally drink the whole bottle and not get drunk. One of the perks of being dead, I guess."

I swirled the drink in the glass. "The other day we killed one of the last WEAPONS. Emerald Weapon." I laughed as I recalled the fight. Cloud ordering me and Tifa to swim out of the submarine to go fight the thing directly. I thought he was mad. But that's pretty normal as far as Cloud's concerned. Tifa didn't seem to like the idea, not because it wouldn't work, but because she's not exactly a zombie like me or a Jenova-spliced superhuman like Cloud. She couldn't reasonably hold her breath that long while punching an underwater WEAPON. "Apparently the Death Penalty has some really weird property where it just gets magnified when it fires underwater."

I could've sworn I saw her lips twitch. I looked up. Same face as always.

"Oh, did I tell you? I ran into a BANDERSNATCH. They live up north, around the Crater. Nasty little pieces of work. One tried to eat my good arm." Fuck Bandersnatches. Almost as nasty as Vlakaradoses. I continued, "You were right, you know? They do make the funniest little noises." I emulated the Bandersnatch noise as best I could.

Her lips twitched a little. I was watching. I saw. She can still hear me.

I finished my first glass and considered pouring myself a second one. Nah. It's not really worth it. "The other night, Yuffie decided I needed to be 'prettier'. She brushed out my hair and braided it and put ribbons in it, and then used some makeup on me." I had to admit, as much as I really didn't like Yuffie, she had a lot of guts. Everyone was steering as clear from me as possible while she dolled me up.

There was silence. I didn't really need to breathe much, so I didn't. The silence was deafening and oppressing, the kind of silence that just made you want to scream just to make some kind of noice.

"... Do you remember when I started knitting?" I asked. "I... figured out how to knit with just the one arm. Very carefully." I laughed a bit at the joke and continued, "The other night, while Cid was asleep, I just. Knit a sweater ON to him. He didn't even notice. He woke up and was just suddenly wearing a very nice sweater. Did the same thing to Barret last night. Even knit his little gunarm a cozy. He was so confused..."

I felt a sort of dark laughter welling up inside me. "Old habits die hard, Lucrecia. This morning, I finished up a GIANT dick. Like, this thing is as tall as me. I put it in a box and dropped it off at Hojo's house. And I staked the place out, watching and waiting. He gets up, gets the mail, sees the box... And he's paranoid now, right? So he calls up the Turks, and Reno shows up. He checks the whole thing out, and tells the good professor it's not a bomb." I changed to my best Hojo impression as I quoted, "Well, what is it, Reno?" And then it was the Reno voice, but I could barely keep a straight face. "Professor, it appears to be you in the box." Back to normal Vincent voice. "So Reno just BOOKS it, right? Like I've never SEEN that boy run that fast! And Hojo just opens the box, and there it is. A giant dick. You should've seen the look on his face..."

My laughter died down. Silence echoed menacingly through the cave. Lucrecia had a little bit of a smile on her lips, but it faded.

"... I really miss you," I finally said, inspecting the second glass of wine. "I know why you've done this, but... I miss being able to just talk with you about everything. I miss your voice."

There was no response.

"I love you, Lucrecia," I said, slowly packing up the things. The second glass of wine sat by her crystal. "Even if you feel like you're a monster, I still love you." The truth of the matter was I felt more like a monster. I should've done something. I should've...

I shook my head. "I'll be back in a week or so. Keep you up to date on things happening in the world. Maybe we'll have another glass of wine." The team knew where I went every Friday evening. They didn't say much about it. I figured they thought I was just a sentimental old manzombie (or as Yuffie called me, a creepy vampire with a deep distaste for blood). I didn't care what they thought. If she was going to be here forever, and so was I, I might as well make the most of our time.

I left the second glass I had poured behind. It sat with about thirty other glasses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes Wine and Monsters - A Collection of Stories. Thank you for reading.  
> Initially, the story was going to be a oneshot. However, I felt like these characters needed more exploration and time together. I have a bad habit of bookending things, and have concluded that this story will end how it began: with a glass of wine and discussion of monsters.  
> There may be more chapters added between chapter 1 and this chapter. However, as of right now, this story is complete.


End file.
